Process. Writing, painting, music, process is muscle memory. At the Steinway, the black and white keys serve my fingers; sound, poised, waiting for a neuronal ignition, a synaptic crescendo. Months passed with the ghost of a crescendo. Wins and errors, the music was ugly once. Now lightning-rod neurons meld with muscle, old friends ready to obey their sound. Check the count, the key— Inhale and caress the first key. Pianissimo, dear, for a crescendo is a climax. Let’s tell a story in sound. Music is not blithe muscle, but neuronal freedom of procreation. Neurons lit for the first time, key in the process. Soft muscle trickles a tune as the crescendo prepares its swell. Fingers run, music leads. Moonlight reflects soundly off the slick piano top. Its chorded sound nuzzles your neurons. Melted into the music, the notes sing, repeat, demand their key. Fortissimo, yes, the crescendo unleashed! Pounce, dance, fingers! Your muscle a gale, foot pounding the pedal, tight muscles abound. Exhale—yes, every last human heard your sound. Rapt? Lure them home. The decrescendo lingers with fingers finely tuned to thousands of neurons, a web, detangling the keys. The body a conduit from symbols to music. Gray matter, sinew, muscle, rustle my neurons. Swaying on the bench to the sound, the pure ring of the keys, a perfectly timed crescendo; the electricity of music.
Elise Swanson Ochoa ’s work has been featured in Los Angeles Poets for Justice: A Document for the People, The Loch Raven Review, The Opiate Magazine, Potato Soup Journal, and Wrath-Bearing Tree. She holds a BA in Spanish and linguistics from UCLA and a Doctor of Optometry degree from Southern California College of Optometry. Elise is an optometrist for a multi-specialty clinic in Ventura County. She attends Creative Writing courses through UCLA Extension.
